


mon petit oiseau (my little bird)

by amourlouis (hxrrylxrrylxuis)



Series: as young as you are [one shots] [2]
Category: One Direction
Genre: Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Fluff, Larry Stylinson Is Real, Laundry day, M/M, Size Difference, Tea, What else is new, and harry is not small, its cold and louis just wants tea, louis and harry are in love, louis is small, louis loves harry, this is really stupid too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:37:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4927099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hxrrylxrrylxuis/pseuds/amourlouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: louis can't reach it but he doesn't want to ask harry for help because he knows what will happen if he does so he tries to climb up and drops stuff and harry runs in and fluff ensues</p><p>i don't know what the fuck happened here</p>
            </blockquote>





	mon petit oiseau (my little bird)

Louis  _really_  wants some tea and Harry obviously hates him.

Harry is in their bedroom, probably watching something irritatingly stupid, Louis thinks, and he's put the mugs up much too high. On purpose.

Try as he might, he can not reach the fucking mugs. He stands on the tippiest top of his toes and reaches as far as he thinks he can humanly possibly manage to, but his hand still barely grazes the edge of the shelf. "Fuck's sake."

Harry has a thing for how short Louis is. It shouldn't annoy Louis so much, probably, because Harry is fond and cute and kisses his cheek when he has to reach things for him - but today will not be one of those days. He's determined. He is twenty-three and Louis  _fucking_  Tomlinson. He can  _do it himself,_ thank you.

He tries again with his desperate reaching, which still doesn't work, and even jumps a few times. All he seems to accomplish is accidentally pushing the mug back further on the shelf with his hand as he tries to grab it mid-air (which actually is a horrible idea and sounds like something he would laugh at Harry for doing, now that he thinks of it - it's possible they may be merging into the same person) and almost lands on his bum. With a huff, he looks around the kitchen for alternatives. There's a used bowl sitting in the sink, so that's out, and there's an empty pizza box sitting on the countertop. It's useless. He has to seek help of some sort.

So, begrudgingly, he drags a chair from the dining area over. It screeches on the hardwood, which Harry will probably cringe over later, and Louis curses at it when it gets stuck on the towel hanging off of the sink. Harry knitted it. Louis may or may not be married to an old housewife.

"Okay," he address the room at large, "I can do this."

Once the chair is in Mug Reaching Position, he tests it with one foot to make sure it won't just collapse. He supposes it holds all of his weight when he sits on it, so what's the difference, really? He stands up on it shakily, clutching the cabinet door for dear life, and straightens his legs. He's eye level with the shelf of mugs now, which is enough for him to sigh victoriously, but he also has to take a moment to look around the room from his newfound height.

He wonders what it'd be like to be this tall all the time. He's always been slightly on the shorter side, much to his despair, but next to Harry he often times looks like a grasshopper sitting by a gigantic bullfrog - which Harry definitely is, no questions asked - which is even more frustrating. He kind of fully intends on spending forever with Harry, so he either needs Harry to develop a terrible hunchback in his old age or possible lose a few inches if he's ever going to feel adequate.

Back to the mugs, of course. He's got a nice selection, because Harry likes to collect them from every place they tour at, for some reason, but he settles on his favorite: a plain dark red one that his mum gave to them when they moved into their very first flat. This is the first mug that he ever made tea in at their flat, and it's the first mug that Harry had fed him hot soup in during his very first bug in their very first flat.

"Lots of first with you, Gina," he says, and they may have named the mug, but.

He's just about to climb down and go about his business when Harry barges into the room and hollers, "Louis?" so suddenly that it sends a flinch through his entire body and the mug slips from his hands before he can even blink. It's not that far of a fall, but of course it hits the wood and shatters into approximately a million pieces, Louis thinks with a gasp, and Harry's words die in his throat as soon as he takes in Louis's current predicament.

And immediately bursts into laughter.

Louis, on the other hand, is devastated. "Why are you fucking  _laughing_?"

"You're standing on a chair just to get a mug, Lou," Harry cackles, clapping his unnecessarily large hands together like it's the best damn thing he's seen all day. Louis really hates him with an unbearable amount of fondness, really. "I've forgotten how short you are, it seems."

"You put them up there on purpose," Louis whines.

"Did not."

"Did too," he insists, stepping cautiously from the chair and pulling his jumper down over his bum. He's not wearing pants because it's laundry day and Harry has to wash everything, apparently, which is part of the reason he'd come to make tea. He may be quite literally freezing his balls off. "And now look at what you've done."

"What?" Harry asks, pouting. He crosses his arms across his chest. It takes a scary amount of self-control on Louis's part to not cross the room and kiss him all over the face. He's not a dog, see.

"You've broken Gina."

"You're the one that dropped her! 's not my fault."

"Actually, Harold, you are the responsible one here. You put mug on shelf. You barge into room. You have loud voice. You break Gina."

"Why are you talking like that?" Harry tuts, " _Me caveman. You break Gina._ "

"I hate you," Louis huffs, staring pitifully at the red pieces scattered across the floor. "That mug was important to me."

Harry shuffles over in all his grace, tripping over the rug in front of the refrigerator, and studies the scene with his hands on the back of his hips. "Well, 's definitely broken now." Louis gives him a look. "But we can fix it!"

"Can we?" Louis asks, toeing at the shards. Harry steps over, pushing Louis behind him gently, and crouches down. He's clearly thinking about how he's going to go about fixing Louis' mug with a great deal of precision, and Louis is just so in love, see. He drapes himself over Harry's back and wraps his arms around his waist. "You really gonna try?"

"'Course."

Louis smiles into the skin of Harry's back. "You're a dork."

"And you're small."

" _Hey._ " Louis protests, nipping between Harry's shoulder blades lightly. Harry stands up to his full height, Louis clinging to him like a koala, and it feels so right.

"It's true."

Louis softens a little as Harry's hands come to rest over his own.

"Yeah, maybe a little."

 


End file.
